Void
by 0asissss
Summary: "I'm a thousand years old. You can't kill me."
1. Sacrifice

**Hello! Part of the explanation for why this is back is in the note before _Grief_. The other part of the explanation is that I'm gonna be rewriting this. For the most part, what I'd already had uploaded will remain the same. I just finished an outline for this (go me, I never do that) but I'm not gonna be uploading more until 1) people follow/favorite/review, which tells me you actually w _ant_ to read it (because there's no sense in uploading it if you don't, you know :p) and 2) I've completely finished it. I don't want to have to keep going back and editing uploaded chapters because I messed up. However, I'm uploading this first chapter now because this hasn't changed.**

 **I hope you'll all like where I take this story. It's quite plot twisty. I know I would've loved to see the show goes this direction instead of where it went. (RIP Allison.)**

 **Follow, favorite, review, enjoy! If you're coming back to this story, thanks and welcome back!**

* * *

 _MEMORY._

 _We are all scared in this moment. Gripping the edges of the bathtub, shivering so hard it's like we have no control over our bodies – we are all scared. Scott and Allison, the two toughest people I've ever met, are absolutely terrified. I can just barely feel Lydia's hands on my shoulders, but no doubt I feel the weight of my dad's badge in my hand. The sharp points prick my skin just a little bit – not enough to be painful – but I squeeze it as hard as I can to feel something besides the mind-numbing cold of the ice water, and to remind myself why I'm doing this._

 _I can't live without my dad, Scott can't live without his mom, and we're all going to die if we lose Allison's dad, the man who has somehow become one of our greatest allies and fiercest protectors. We're scared out of our minds, but we don't have a choice._

 _The three of us share a look, and we all know what it means. Lydia squeezes my shoulders and digs her nails into my skin, and I know what that means as well._

 _Deaton says something I don't understand, but my body follows the command anyway. I take in as deep a breath as I possibly can, and for a second I relish in the fact that in spite of my anxiety I feel like I've actually taken a full breath._

 _The moment is over in a second, and the breath is just as quickly snatched from my lungs as I sink down into freezing death, half voluntarily, half pushed by Lydia. I know she's frightened, too, and so are Isaac and Deaton. I want to squeeze her hand or touch her arm to somehow to let her know that it's okay. It's okay because it's peaceful… It's not like straight drowning. The sub-zero temperature kills us long before the lack of oxygen does._


	2. Nemeton

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* * *

 _HUMAN._

The more I think back to that moment, the fuzzier the memory gets. I don't know if that's because I'm becoming less and less human or because the nogitsune is deliberately fading my memories.

"Neither," he hisses in my ear.

I don't say anything. I just continue to sit, still as a statue, on the sacred tree stump that brought this hell on me, and stare up at the dark, cloudy sky.

"I am not taking your memories. I have no use for them. You, Stiles, are not becoming less human either. You are becoming weaker, and I am taking more and more control of you."

I know by now that's not quite what he means, and I wait patiently for his moment of dramatics to pass before he gets to the point.

"Your memories aren't fading, Stiles. _You_ are fading. You're _dying_."

"You don't say?" I ask out loud, even though there's no one there. "I'm paler than usual – which is astonishing on its own – and I've got under-eye bags for days. I can't remember the last time I slept, but I know I haven't eaten since then. I'm sitting out in the freezing cold in the middle of the night without a jacket, but I don't feel anything, and you still feel the need to tell me that I'm dying? I might be weak enough for you to control, but I'm not stupid." A moment of silence passes. "Why are you doing this?" I ask, referring to his momentary release of power. It's not often he lets me have control of my body like this. I'm in control of my voice and movement, anyway, and that's rare.

He just exhales, and it sounds like a hiss. It also sounds ominous. He has a reason, and it's not a good one.

I know he won't tell me, so I wait. I sit on the stump and wait. I think back to that night again, and it's a little less clear. Now I'm not sure if Lydia squeezed my shoulders. That's probably just wishful thinking.

 _Would I have still done it if I'd known it was going to open the door for the nogitsune?_ I ask myself, and in the same moment, I think, _Of course. I was willing to die for my dad. That's the ultimate sacrifice, and as much as this sucks, demonic possession is a lesser sacrifice._

"Is it?" the nogitsune asks.

"What kind of question is that? Death is the ultimate sacrifice. There's no question there," I snap.

"Are you sure, Stiles?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" I shout, suddenly angry. "Stop with the questions."

I can tell he's about to say something else, but the unmistakable howl of a wolf cuts him off. To someone else, the howls might all sound the same, but I know better. I know Scott best, and I know this is what the nogitsune is waiting for.

My pack has found me.

"They're not your pack anymore, Stiles," the nogitsune taunts. "You're mine."

I'm not sure who all has come until they break through the trees. My heart sinks into my stomach when it becomes clear… it's _everyone_.

Scott, Isaac, Derek, Ethan, and Aiden are fully transformed, fangs and claws bared; Kira has her katana, and her eyes are fiery orange; Allison has her bow, and Lydia has… maybe the heel of her stiletto. I don't know why she's there, and in all honesty I wish she wasn't. The thought of any of my friends getting hurt tonight is frightening, but Lydia… The thought is terrifying.

"Stiles," Scott says after a moment. It's a question – _Are you really you?_ – and a plea at the same time. _Stiles, please come with us._

They all have their feet planted firmly on the ground, but the nogitsune reminds me he could have them all running scared. I want to warn them, scream at them to run far, far away from me, but the demon takes control again. He pushes me back behind him; we're two beings occupying one space, and his spirit simply moves in front of mine, taking over my voice, my face, and my body.

He stands up and smirks, and Scott's eyes widen. "Stiles."

"Not anymore."


	3. Trick I

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* * *

 _VOID._

I take a step toward them, and the wolves crouch down low. Derek snaps his teeth, and Scott curls his lip.

"You're not here to fight," I say, and it's more of a question to them even though I know the answer.

"They're here to capture you," Stiles says.

"We will if we have to," Scott says.

"That sounds like fun. Promise me you'll try your hardest."

He and I lunge at each other, and Stiles starts screaming; the sound is both thrilling and irritating.

I take Scott down with ease. He goes for a body-slam, ducking down and trying to wrap his arms around my middle, and all it takes is one sharp blow to the top of his spine to send him to the ground.

Derek and the twins come at me at the same time, and admittedly, three on one is a struggle, but only for a moment. One twin tries to swipe my feet out from under me, and the other tries to grab me by the throat. I kick the first twin, and it catches him by his ear, just underneath his jaw. He flies backward several feet, lands flat on the ground, and doesn't move. I wrap my hands around the second's throat, and my grip is much stronger than his, so he backs away after just a few seconds, coughing and gasping.

Derek is not so easy to subdue, but the challenge is exhilarating. The pain I cause him by breaking his sternum with the heel of my hand fuels the agent of chaos inside me, and Stiles screams even louder, pleading for me to stop.

Derek stumbles, but quickly recovers, and he lets out a growl I'm sure he means to sound intimidating as he lunges again. I grab the front of his shirt and keep his momentum going by taking a step backwards and throwing him across the clearing, nearly sending him into the trees on the _other_ side.

The young boys lay on the ground, moaning, and I turn to the girls.

Stiles stops screaming all of a sudden.

It takes a second for me to figure out why.

In that second, Isaac brings his fist down upon the top of my spine, as I did with Scott, and wraps the other arm around my neck. Before I can react, Allison lets out a warrior's cry, and something sharp pierces my chest.

It's not an arrow, though, and Stiles – skinny, defenseless Stiles – actually laughs.

"You've been tricked," he teases. "You've been tricked by a _human_."

" _Letharia vulpina_ ," I hiss. "You're all cowards. You know you can't take me down yourselves, so you settle for _poison_ – you're pathetic!"

I can't help falling to my knees. The poison works fast, and its effect is a profound misery – but a thousand-year-old trickster is, as the ever-articulate Peter put it, a disaster.

"Stiles is laughing because he's impressed," I jeer as Kira storms toward me and tilts my face up with her katana.

"Shut up," Derek snarls as he and Scott grab my arms.

"He's laughing because he thinks you've got the upper hand on me now."

"Shut up!" Scott growls.

"He laughs now, but he'll be screaming again soon enough."

"Shut up," Allison snaps, shoving her ring dagger in my face. The tip is just barely touching my top lip, and I cut my tongue as I lick the blade.

"He'll be screaming when I slaughter you all." I turn sharply to Lydia, whose delicious fear is delightfully clear on her pretty pale face. "And so will you."


	4. Riddled

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 **If you like the nogitsune storyline, could you check out my other piece, _Inhuman_? I was nervous to post it because it's a crossover with my original characters, but... I don't know. Just a thought :) It does feature a void character. Anyway. This chapter's the longest yet. Hope y'all like!**

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* * *

 _MEMORY._

 _I open my eyes, and the first thing that comes to me is the pain. The second is that I am_ not _in my bed, or even in my house. The third is the pungent, overwhelming awful smell, and the three combined are enough to make me scream._

 _My foot is caught on something, and it feels like whatever it is has impaled me. I throw my head back and scream and flail, but I cannot budge._

 _I'm aware that I'm lying on a cold, hard floor, like concrete, but it's pitch-black._

I'm sleepwalking _, I tell myself._ Just sleepwalking.

 _How I got here is no big deal. The fact that I'm here, however, is – because it's literally freezing, and I'm nowhere near properly dressed. Barefoot, thin shirt and pants, unable to move – I will die long before sunup._

 _My first thought is to call my dad, but if the sleepwalking is no big deal, then I don't want to worry him. Scott could find me much faster anyway, so my dad would never have to know. I start crying tears of joy, though some taste like fear, when I reach in my pocket for my phone and realize it's there just as my blood runs cold with the realization that I might not have brought it._

 _I punch in his number as quickly as my trembling fingers will allow me, and wait. I know he'll pick up. Scott would never let me down._

" _Hey, man, what's up?"_

 _I can feel myself beginning to have a panic attack, hyperventilating so I can't even talk. At the same time, I start crying even harder, more than thankful he picked up. I'm so overwhelmed that I can't answer him._

" _Stiles? Stiles, you there?"_

" _Scott?" I sob._

 _I can practically hear his heart sinking into his stomach. "Hey, I'm here. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"_

" _Scott, I don't – I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I think I was sleepwalking."_

 _He's scared, but his mind goes to work. "Okay, um, can you see anything? Just tell me what you see."_

" _It's dark. It's hard to see." My eyes are adjusting, somewhat, but I still can't see anything distinct. "I think there's something wrong with my –"_

 _Suddenly, I hear a click, and the screen goes black. I swear out loud, and the panic attack looms over me, threatening to swallow me whole. My phone is dead._

" _Son of a bitch, son of a bitch, son of a bitch," I sob as I press and hold the power button, praying it will turn on and stay on. I'm not sure, but I don't think it's at one percent – it's got some life yet, and hopefully it's enough for me to tell Scott where I am._

 _It turns on, nowhere near fast enough. Scott's probably called me back several times by now. As I wait for my phone to reboot, I try to free my leg from whatever it's stuck on, but my idiotic somnambulist body got itself caught pretty good. Whatever has my ankle and foot in a vice grip won't budge to save my life._

 _As soon as the phone lets me, I punch in his number again. When he answers, he sounds more scared than I've ever heard him._

" _Stiles?!"_

" _Scott, I don't think I can get out of here. I can't move."_

" _Where are you?"_

 _The tears start up again. "I don't know. I don't know. It's too dark. I can't see much, and something's wrong with my leg. It's stuck on something, and it's –"_

 _Ice-cold fear runs through me as I become aware of something warm and sticky all over my foot._

"– _I think it's bleeding."_

" _How bad? Stiles, how bad is it?"_

 _I can't answer him because I'm trying to look, and he panics._

" _Stiles, are you there? Can you hear me?"_

 _I inhale sharply to catch my breath, and almost gag on the acrid smell. "There's some kind of smell down here," I choke. "Something smells terrible. It's brutal. My eyes are watering."_

" _Okay, listen. I'm gonna call your dad."_

" _No, no, no, no, don't!" I beg._

" _But your dad –"_

" _Don't. Just please, don't call him. Promise me you won't. He already worries about me too much, Scott, please."_

" _But what if I can't find you? Stiles, I can't make a promise like that."_

" _No, no, no, just please," I sob. "Please, don't call him. Come find me. You can do it." I feel terrible wording it like that, but I know he can, and I'd feel even worse scaring my dad half to death. "He doesn't have to know. Scott, you can find me."_

" _I don't know if I can do this."_

 _The sound of those words coming out of Scott's mouth is the most frightening thing yet. The sound of my phone's low battery alarm is the second. I know that if I turn it off for a minute or so, some of the charge will come back – but that doesn't_ always _work. Still, it's worth trying. "I gotta call you back. I have to turn the phone off."_

" _What? No, hey, wait –"_

" _I'm gonna call you right back!"_

" _Hold on, Stiles –"_

 _I can't hold back my tears as I power down the phone. I'm shaking, more out of cold than fear, but anxiety has come over me so that I can hardly think straight at all – and thanks to that, the rustling sound a few yards away doesn't process for a few seconds. When it_ does _, I jump, jostle my injured leg, and clamp my hand over my mouth to hold back a cry of surprise and pain._

That's not the wind _, I think, and at the same time I realize I'm not outside, but in a building somewhere._ That's not the wind. Something is moving. Something… or someone.

 _I can't let the phone charge for more than a minute out of pure fear. I turn it back on, call Scott again, and pray as hard as I can that he didn't call my father._

" _Hey, Stiles –"_

" _Did you call him? Did you call my dad?"_

" _No. Just Isaac. We're coming to find you. Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something and tell us where to look."_

 _My eyes have adjusted even more, and I can see I'm on a concrete floor, sprinkled with dust and fallen leaves, and there's large, tall equipment in this spacious room – and I can't even begin to figure out what it is. It looks like what would be kept in a boiler room at the school – or the basement of an industrial building._

" _It's a basement. It's some – it's some, some kind of basement."_

" _In a house?"_

" _No, it looks bigger, like industrial. I think there's a furnace, but it's cold. It's freezing down here." My phone beeps angrily at me again. "I gotta turn the – I gotta turn the phone off, Scott, it's going to die."_

 _Whatever made the rustling noise is moving again._

" _Wait, wait, wait. What else is there? What do you see?"_

" _The phone's dying. I can't talk." It's moving closer, getting louder, and even though I know it's already heard me, I can't help whispering in fear. "I have to go. Just please…"_

 _I'm not sure what I'm begging him for, but he catches on to my fear and interrupts me. "Stiles, why are you whispering?"_

"… _because I think there's someone in here with me."_

 _The phone protests again, and I hang up, but I don't turn the phone off. Instead, I use the flashlight to look around, realizing I should've done that before. With my heart beating out of my chest, I shine the light on my leg, and I can't stop the scream._

 _It's caught in a coyote trap, and it is indeed bleeding – it's covered in blood._

 _I hear the rustling noise again, and I quickly shine the light where I think I hear it. "Who's there?" I call out even though I'm sure whoever it is won't answer. "I know you're there. I can hear you."_

 _I move the phone slowly as I scan the room. My heart thuds painfully in my chest as the light stops on a person kneeling next to the opposite wall; at second glance, though, it doesn't look like a person. Its stance is awkward and unnatural, like its shape is inhuman, and its hands and head are bandaged. It doesn't look like a person. It looks like a monster._

 _It's drawing something on the wall with a piece of chalk, I can see, and when it drops the chalk and walks away, I'm so focused on the drawing that I don't get a good look at the monster._

 _How I know what it is, I don't know, but it sends another tidal wave of panic crashing down on my head. It's the Japanese kanji for 'self'._

"Who are you?"

"Self."

 _I scan the room again, looking for the monster, but he's nowhere to be found – and suddenly the phone dies. Somehow I know that it won't turn back on, but I try desperately anyway, begging it to just give me a few more minutes. It refuses, and I toss it onto the floor in frustration._

 _As if on cue, the rustling and scraping sound is back, and I can see the silhouette of the monster just a few feet away._

" _Who's there? Who are you?!"_

 _It walks around the equipment, evading me, and mutters something in a language I don't understand._

" _What?"_

 _It only continues in its nonsense, and I lay my head down on the floor, tears coming back to me._

" _I don't – I don't understand."_

" _Not 'who are you', Stiles… Who are_ we _?"_

 _I'm struggling to open the trap, trying desperately to get away, but that makes me stop in my tracks._

" _It's getting colder, Stiles," it continues. "Did you notice that we've stopped shivering? Do you know why that's a bad sign?"_

" _It's the body trying to… conserve energy. It was my fifth grade science report. Hypothermia."_

" _Our speech is starting to thicken. Then comes fatigue… confusion… We're going to die if we don't get out of here."_

" _Stop saying that. Stop saying 'we'," I mutter, suddenly irritated._

" _We're trying to keep you from freezing to death. You better get up, Stiles," it mocks._

 _All of a sudden, I am filled with rage. This creature – this thing that brought me here – is walking around me like a wild animal circles its prey, mocking me, taunting me. "How?" I snap. "There's a freakin' steel-jawed trap on my leg!"_

 _The monster stops. "Is there?" it hisses._

 _I can't take it, so I sit back and try to stop myself from crying._

" _Notice something different? It was on your right leg before, wasn't it?"_

" _No," I whisper, but suddenly I'm not certain of that._

" _Are you sure?"_

 _I look, and I can see clearly – the trap is now crushing my right ankle. I look up at him, and then back down – and it's back on my left. "What is this?" I implore. "What are you doing?"_

" _We're trying to save you, Stiles," the monster coos, but I highly doubt that's the truth. "We're trying to save your life."_

 _I don't have a response to that, so it circles me again for a few moments, and then stops to draw the kanji on the wall again._

" _You don't understand, do you? It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"_

" _A few."_

" _What gets bigger the more you take away?"_

 _I wanna scream that this is pointless, but I don't have the energy. "A hole."_

" _What gets wetter the more it dries?"_

" _A towel."_

" _When is a door not a door?"_

 _I should've seen it coming from the moment it said 'riddle', but of course, I'm slowly wasting away, so it comes as a slap to the face. I tear up again in spite of myself. "When it's a jar."_

" _Everyone has it, but no one can lose it."_

 _Now, I'm not stupid, but I'm also not the brightest. That one stumps me. I can only imagine how it's going to react when I say I don't know, but I have to._

" _What is it?" it hisses at me when I don't respond._

" _I don't…"_

 _It breathes out like it's getting angry, and turns back to me and starts walking toward me. "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it, Stiles?"_

" _I don't…" I can't control my shaking, my tears, or my anxiety. I scrunch up my face so I can't see it, as if that will help. "I don't know."_

" _Everyone has it, but no one can lose it," it presses, sharper, faster, as if intimidating me will suddenly enlighten me._

 _I can hear it walking toward me. It mutters in the same gibberish as before, and all I can do is say, "I don't know."_

 _Suddenly, it's literally inches from my face, shouting its nonsense at me, and once again, all I can do is submit. I shrink back against the wall in fear, trying my hardest not to look this thing in the face, trying to figure out some way to fight back._

 _It gets fed up with questioning me, and suddenly it grabs the chain of the trap and starts dragging me away – and I lose it._

" _No! No! Wait! Wait, wait, wait! Wait! Wait!"_

 _I scream, and scream, and scream, and scream, but it continues to drag me across the rough concrete… across dirt and leaves… out of the hallucination… and into reality._

 _Agent McCall drops me in Melissa's arms, and she's screaming that it's all right, Stiles, you're okay, but I can't make myself shut up because I know it's not. Nothing is okay._

 _There is no monster. There is no flesh-and-blood creature with bandages for skin and a sadistic taste for cryptic riddles. There is only me._

 _I am the monster._


	5. Trick II

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* * *

 _VOID._

The body may be unconscious, but the mind is racing.

Stiles retreats, wrapping his arms around himself and comforting himself in the fact that there are some things he still remembers. Of course, he's aware of the irony of the situation he's in now – back then, he was so desperate for his pack to find him, but tonight he was wishing they wouldn't – and it's one of his most painful memories. That's the only reason he can still remember it. Things like his darling strawberry-blonde trying to comfort him in the moments before his sacrificial suicide… are exactly what I want to take away from him.

 _You know by now that you weren't sleepwalking, but do they?_ I ask him.

 _Pretty sure they've gathered I wasn't just sleepwalking,_ he mutters.

 _You weren't sleepwalking at all. I took you everywhere you went that night, wide awake and alert. The hallucination of the basement was a trick I played on you, but getting you lost in the coyote den was a trick I played on your pack. They would never have found you. The repellent overpowered your scent. Do they know that?_

 _Let me have my body back, and I'll enlighten them,_ he snaps, and a little of his trademark sarcasm masks the defeat in his voice.

 _While I'd love to see how that goes down, I can't do that just yet, Stiles. Not all the pieces are in position yet. There will be plenty of time for confessions._

He furrows his brow in confusion, but he knows better than to ask me, so he just wraps his arms around himself again and falls back into silence.

I hear and feel everything on the trip from the nemeton to the car, and so does Stiles. Derek carries us, and we hear Lydia and Allison talking to Scott.

"He looks like he's about to die, Scott," Allison says, her voice trembling.

"I know," Scott replies. "I know."

 _I know that tone,_ Stiles says. _That's the 'I know, and there's nothing I can do about it, and it sucks' tone._

 _You're not even dead yet, and there's so much strife surrounding you and your pack, Stiles,_ I jeer. _Mouthwatering, delectable strife._

 _You're sick,_ he shoots back. _You're a monster._

 _Right now, they think you're the monster,_ I remind him.

"Scott, what if this doesn't work?" Lydia hisses. Her voice is an octave higher than normal, and I drink up her fear.

"If it doesn't… we keep trying. We keep looking. Stiles has never given up on any one of us, so I'm not giving up on him."

"Scott, what if _this_ kills him?"

"Then…"

He can't finish his sentence, and I laugh while Stiles tears up.

 _The taste of brotherly love in the air… is disgusting,_ I say. _I much prefer the chaos. I don't know what they're going to do, but as soon as this wretched poison wears off, I'm going to feast._

 _What are you gonna do?_ Stiles whimpers.

 _Wouldn't you like to know?_

#

It's not surprising to me or Stiles when we realize we're in the animal clinic. I bristle in anger when Deaton's intolerably calm voice reaches our ears, but I'm not surprised.

Derek, Isaac, Ethan, Kira, and Allison are gone. The girls have left to check on and update their parents, as if anything so petty actually matters or they'd be able to help, and the boys have gone to find Peter. Why they need him, I'm not sure – I'm not even sure his big, narcissistic head could even fit in the room – but I'm glad for it. He gets on everyone's last nerve so well, and while irritation isn't my favorite, it's delightful all the same.

Stiles gasps when he hears Melissa, and his pain is palpable. I lick my lips, and I can just barely taste it, so I pick at him to see if he'll give me a little more.

 _She's here to help you, to sew up that wound on your stomach,_ I say softly. _She's only here to help you, Stiles. I shouldn't hurt her, should I?_

 _No, you shouldn't,_ he whispers, and his voice trembles.

 _More. Give me more._

 _No, you shouldn't hurt her!_

 _She's like a mother to you, isn't she, Stiles? She's just like the mother you lost._

 _Shut up._ He begins to tear up, and I can't help but smirk.

 _How would Scott feel if I killed her?_

 _Shut up!_

 _The poison's wearing off, Stiles,_ I tease. _What shall I do when I wake up?_

 _Just…_ He presses himself against the wall, but he can't shrink back as far enough away from me as he'd like. He begins to cry, and I can taste his panic. Stiles' anxiety and panic are the best things about him. I've chosen to keep him alive this long because I can't get enough of it.

I smirk again, and he screws up his face like he's about to punch me, but I turn around as the body wakes up, and I'm in control again.

Scott and Aiden are holding my mouth open as the doctor drips something in it. I seethe in anger, Stiles actually laughs, and before I know it, before I can do anything more than weakly grip Aiden's throat, my body is paralyzed.

I _did_ get my hand around his throat, though, and the weak little pup starts choking, obviously unaware that I'm not even trying. His distress makes me laugh, and it shuts Stiles up.

"Get him off me!" Aiden spits, his eyes flashing blue.

Scott breaks my hand away, and my arm just drops uselessly onto the couch.

"Kanima venom," I hiss at the doctor. "Nice touch."

Aiden growls and brings his claws out, and I shut him down.

"You know how they say that twins get a feeling when the other one's in pain?" I sneer. "You didn't lose that talent, too, did you?"

He just looks from me to Scott in confusion, and I laugh.

"Oh, I hope not. You're gonna need it."

Confusion isn't quite the turmoil I love, but I like it anyway, especially the anger they cast out at me whenever I taunt them like this.

"Okay, I'll give a little hint. Ethan's run into some trouble with Derek, Isaac, and Peter."

It's a total lie, but they don't know that. Aiden just looks from me to Scott again, and Scott growls, "Go!"

 _Too easy to get him out of my way._ I lay my head back on the table and watch him run out, and giggle to myself. "Oh, I hope he gets there in time. I like the twins." I turn my head back to Scott, Lydia, Melissa, and Deaton. "Short tempers. Homicidal compulsions. They're a lot more fun than you _bakamono_ trying to save the world every day."

Scott and Deaton don't think I'm as funny as I do, I gather as they begin to tie me to the examination table, but I still can't help but laugh.

"You actually think that'll hold me?"

"The rope is for extra measures. The kanima venom is what's holding you for now, and I believe it's working," Deaton says, and even though his inflection doesn't change, I can hear the subtle sneer.

"Well, I hope you brought enough to hold me until the end of time. You're gonna need it to stop me from killing you all."

"Doc, you brought something to paralyze his body," Melissa says, crossing her arms and setting her jaw as she looks down at me. "You got anything for his mouth?"

"Yes, I do." The idiot actually slaps duct tape over my mouth, and while I admit it does garble the sound, it can't shut me up. They can still hear me scream, and they can still hear me laugh.

They don't need me to keep saying it, anyway. They know, as Scott, Deaton, and Lydia rush into the other room to discuss their options and Melissa brings out her nurse's tools to sew me up, that I'm not bluffing.

Energy is rising in this little clinic. Fear is growing.

The banshee scream is building.


	6. Crimes

**Hello! Sorry this one is so short. I could be convinced to post the next chapter in a few hours if I get a review, so... :p**

 **Thanks to Shadow-wolf78 for your reviews, and to PottericaTwilighterVictoria... Keep reading, my friend ;)**

 **Follow, favorite, review, enjoy!**

* * *

 _MEMORY._

 _I wrote a message on a blackboard pointing out a new friend of mine as a target for a serial killer._

 _I unlocked a boiler room and spilled chemicals on the floor to hide said killer from the cops and the werewolves._

 _I gave a coach I respected a prank birthday present eerily similar to the bomb the said killer was famous for._

 _I cut a power cord on top of a hospital building and electrocuted several innocent people._

 _I sent an arrow into my coach's stomach._

 _I placed a hoax bomb on a school bus to distract from the bomb I sent to the sheriff's station, which killed a deputy and wounded many more people._

 _I compiled a duffel bag full of equipment that hinted at something exponentially more terrible than what I'd done already._

 _I unleashed the chaos Noshiko called for._

 _I played many an evil trick on people I called my friends, on people I loved. I shed blood, took lives, and broke trust._

 _I became infected the night I woke up screaming in my father's arms, the night I saw the nemeton in my nightmare. I woke up in a locker, begging to be let out, and inadvertently let him in._

 _I became infected through a serial killer._

 _I_ became _the serial killer… and I'm not done yet._


	7. Vanished

**Hello! Decided to post this one tonight, too, since it's also a little short.**

 **Follow, favorite, review, and enjoy :)**

* * *

 _VOID._

Melissa goes quietly about her work, cleaning the cut from the kaiken with steady, gentle hands. Stiles just watches, tears brimming in his eyes, but of course, the tears are never enough. I want him to give me real pain, and sniveling doesn't quite cut it.

I let him have control for just a few seconds. I step back, and he doesn't hesitate – but all the blubbering idiot can do is cry.

He sniffles until Melissa hears him and looks up in surprise.

"Stiles?"

He nods, and she peels the duct tape off.

Just before he's about to say, "I'm sorry," I yank him back behind me and take over again. I think I hear him curse at me, but I can't be offended by such things.

Melissa can see the change in facial expression when I take over, and she stands back, suddenly guarded.

"Really, Melissa?" I say. "I shed one tear? That's all it takes?"

She goes back to stitching up this pathetic vessel, averting her eyes. Fear.

"Come on, you can't crumble that easily. How are you gonna hold up when Scott knows the truth?"

Her hands stop moving, but she doesn't look back at me. "What?"

"When he finds out why his dad really left?"

"Shut up!" Stiles screams. The sound of his anger, his defiance, makes me giddy.

"You know he overheard it." When she doesn't respond, a clear negative, I make a face of mock pity. "You had no idea… You called Stilinski right after it happened. You didn't tell Scott, but you told the sheriff." I scoffed. "And Stiles heard it like he hears everything. You want to know why he never told Scott?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! Leave her alone, just leave her alone!"

"Because he knew that Scott would never forgive you."

Melissa's tearing up, and Stiles is beating on my back, screaming himself hoarse. "Leave her alone! You monster, you sick bastard, leave her alone, I said!"

"He knew how much he would hate you."

"This isn't you, Stiles," Melissa whispers.

Stiles stops fighting me, and just stares at Melissa. "You know… You know it's not me. It's not me, Melissa, I promise, I promise, I –"

My next words are to the both of them. "It is now."

Nothing stands in my way. Scott, Lydia, and Deaton are having a heated discussion in the next room. Stiles is momentarily stunned into silence, and I have conserved all my energy for this next step – it happens in a matter of seconds.

I rear up and break through the ropes, clouting Melissa on the side of the head.

She falls to the floor unconscious, and the others come barreling in.

I smirk at Scott, and just as he claws at me, I move through the air faster than his little puppy eyes can comprehend – vanished.


	8. Coup de Foudre I (Love at First Sight)

**Hello! This is the last pre-written chapter, and I'm working on the next one! I've been posting every night but I'm not sure when the next one will be up. It shouldn't be too long, guys. Thanks for all the love!**

 **To the reviewer who asked about Stydia... :***

 **Follow, favorite, review, and enjoy ;)**

* * *

 _HUMAN._

Moving through the air like that takes a _lot_ of energy, so when we materialize inside the coyote den, the nogitsune's exhausted and he can't even hold himself up. He also can't keep his control over me. He falls to the floor in the now-vacant, no-longer-malodorous den, and in the same moment I pull him back behind me.

"You have control for now, Stiles," he hisses. "For now. How many times do you think I've done that in a millennium? How long do you think it'll take me to get my energy back?"

"Shut up," I snap, and my voice is the strongest it's ever been. He can't hold up this body, but _I_ can, so I stand up and walk right out of the den. He's shouting at me in Japanese, and I can gather that it's angry, but at the moment I can ignore him.

I force the memories and flashbacks and involuntary guilt trips away as I walk; if I let them get to me, I'll break down in the middle of this forest and I won't be able to get back up.

Unfortunately, that means I'm not paying much attention to where I'm walking, so I come to and jump out of my skin when I realize I'm standing on a porch.

"Not Scott's, please," I whisper as I step back and try to figure out where I am. "Not Scott's, not mine. Please."

I've never been more confused. I don't know what I'm doing here, and several long moments of staring at the front door isn't helping me figure it out, so I dare try to open it and go inside, and alas – it's unlocked.

Something pulls me up to the bedroom. I don't know what it is, but I know I can't linger in the living room or the hallways. I just know I need to go upstairs. It doesn't occur to me what the 'something' is until I sit diffidently on her bed – the emotional tether. The pull of my anchor.

The nogitsune growls, and this time it's me, really me, who's smirking. He's been trying to take my good memories away from me by overpowering me with the bad ones, but I'll never, ever forget that she's my anchor. I may forget the details of the sacrifice I made, but that will follow me to my grave and everywhere I go beforehand.

She doesn't come home for quite a long time, so far into the night that it's nearly morning. I can only imagine everyone's looking everywhere for me. They're probably looking in places they've already seen me – the hospital, the nemeton, the coyote den – and I click my tongue in sadness. Not only do I know that Noshiko won't sic the oni on me, but I don't need a clever trickster spirit to know a fugitive would never show up somewhere twice. Technically, I was at the den twice, but I didn't _stay_ there. The nogitsune only took us there because he was hoping the repellent would be there to mask my scent, not because he planned to stay or anything.

My jumbled thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakable sound of stiletto heels on hardwood floors. Suddenly, I'm sweating, and a million scenarios flood my mind – she'll scream when she opens the door, she'll immediately call Scott, she'll turn and run, she's not alone – but before I have time to address any one of them, she's standing in the doorway.

"It's me," I say as quickly as I can, holding my hands up. "It's me. It's Stiles. It's okay."

"Oh, my God," she breathes, and steps back in fear.

The sight of her in all her beauty is enough to overwhelm me, but to see her so scared of me brings tears to my eyes that I have no time to push back.

"Stiles," she cries as I sink back onto the bed.

"It's me, Lydia. I swear to God, Lydia, it's me," I sob.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" she hisses as she takes several steps toward me.

"I… I don't know," I whisper, trying to stop the tears. "I just… I just showed up here."

She actually laughs, but it's more like a sob, and she brings her hand to her mouth. "Yeah, I wouldn't know a thing about that," she whispers. "Stiles, I need to tell Scott you're here."

"No, no, no," I beg, and I remember my night in the coyote den, begging Scott not to call my dad. "Please."

"Why not?" she cries incredulously.

"I just… If I needed to go to Scott, I would've gone to Scott's house. I showed up here because I needed to see you. Please just let me… let me have this moment with just you."

She stands there, a couple steps in front of me, eyeing me like she still doesn't believe I'm really me. I don't blame her, and I'm shocked when she sits down next to me on the bed.

"Lydia, I'm…" I feel like such a baby because I can't stop crying. "I'm so sorry."

She bursts into tears herself, and we wrap our arms around each other.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I murmur over and over into her shoulder.

"Shh," she says comfortingly, rubbing my back softly with one hand. "Shh, Stiles."

I can just tell that we both remember it at the same time – when I was having a panic attack and she held my face in her hands, shushing me softly. What came after is another memory the nogitsune can't take away from me, and his fearsome snarl when I point that out doesn't scare me one bit.

I'm not afraid, and neither is she, it seems – she was reserved when she first saw me sitting on her bed, but she must be certain it's me now because she and I cradle each other's faces in our hands and our lips collide with no hesitation.

She is warm and soft, and time stops. All of my anxious fears are quieted, and all the nogitsune's psychotic rambling is shut off. I am not void, I am not human, I am not a physical being – I am only a sensation, a satisfying happiness and sense of completion. I am this moment.

Kissing Lydia Martin is infinitely better than I've ever imagined, and that's saying something, because I've imagined it a million times. It's not just a kiss – it's not a last-minute effort to keep me from melting down, although I'm vaguely aware I'm holding my breath. It's the inevitable joining of two connected forces. It's fate.

The words are just about to leave my lips when we pull back, but she speaks first. "You're really you?" she whispers, caressing my cheeks.

I nod, but a small fear is growing in the back of my mind. I don't know when he'll be able to take over again.

"I'm not scared, Stiles," she whispers. "I'm not scared of you."

She kisses me again, and I could completely lose myself in it if only the nogitsune would shut up. "The banshee scream is building," he says as I brush a strawberry blonde curl from her face.

 _Shut up,_ I beg him inside my head as my hand lightly traces her jaw.

"The banshee scream is building, and it has been for a while," he continues.

I don't care. I don't care what he says, not when we're lying down on the bed and she's growing more passionate by the second and this is everything I've ever wanted.

"Oh, and I've been able to take over for a while now. I've been waiting because your pleasure will make your pain a five-star meal."


	9. Author's Note

**Hello! Just a quick note.**

 **I'm participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month - it's like NaNoWriMo in November (National Novel Writing Month), except in April you pick your own kind of project and set your own word goal. That will end on the 30th, and I'll resume writing for Void. I haven't forgotten, and you don't have much longer to wait. Sorry for the delay! I have everything outlined, so, seriously, new chapter soon.**

 **Thanks for the love, y'all.**

 **-Kyra**


	10. Author's Note 2

**Hello. I am an awful person.**

 **So Camp is done, and I was successful. 56,646... 546... I wrote somewhere between 5,500 and 5,600 past my goal. So that was cool.**

 **I have written nothing new for** ** _Void_** **. I have some of the next chapter and all of a future chapter written, but nothing new in the last few weeks. In five days I'll be traveling out of state, and I'll be chilling for three weeks. I've been planning to take a sabbatical from writing completely while I'm gone. I think this writer's block is partly because I haven't watched any Teen Wolf in a while, so what I will do (and I PROMISE I will do it) is rewatch the series while I'm on vacay (yes, before you ask, I CAN watch eighty episodes in twenty-one days... it will be the near-death of me, but I can certainly do it), and start writing again when I get back home on the seventh of June.**

 **I'm so sorry to keep y'all waiting. But I promise I won't leave you hanging for good. Just bear with me.**

 **In the meantime, check out my other fics on here! Stydia. Angst. Death. Feels. Go. You're missin out.**

 **(Also, I'm working on Stydia fluff. Multiple prompts, multiple one-shots. 'S gonna be good.)**

 **-Kyra**


	11. Author's Note 3

**Hello again...**

 **I have not been making good on my promises. There's no excuse for that. I'm incredibly sorry. It's not just in this area of my life; it's everywhere. I'm in a rut, and I have been for a while. I'm sort of failing in every aspect of my life. I make promises I can't keep, and there's just no excuse for that. My computer did fail me while I was on vacation, so I couldn't use it at all. Therefore, I did not catch up on Teen Wolf. I'll be attempting that over the next few weeks. I have some events planned which will take a little of my time. I've also had some health issues and I'll be taking a lot of time to address them, doctors' appointments and such. I am also participating in Camp NaNoWriMo again in July. So... Again, please accept my sincerest apologies, and follow and favorite this story so you know when I do eventually get my lazy bum in gear and update this. I have an outline. I know how this goes. It's just... doing it that's the problem.**

 **In the meantime, if you haven't already checked out Grief, Red String, and Ghost (Stydia angst), you may find that entertaining. If you wanna leave reviews telling me how much you want me to get my shit straight, that'll work. Feel free to do that.**

 **If you've stuck with me, bless you. I appreciate it.**

 **-Kyra**


	12. Author's Note 4

**Hello again.**

 **The last few months have been the worst of my life. I'm much more stable now, but unfortunately, I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, which leaves no time for this in the month of November. Harass me in December to upload a new chapter. I will not leave this unfinished, I PROMISE!**

 **-Kyra.**


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